When Hua Lingyue came back with a cup of soy milk, there was more than just the two eggs she had placed on Xie Qiaoqiao’s computer desk—there was now also a basket of soup dumplings and a bulging bag of egg-stuffed pancakes.
Several other employees were already seated at the other empty desks in the office; it was obvious the rest of the breakfast had been contributed by them as well.
Xie Qiaoqiao was peeling an egg while watching the computer screen.
Hua Lingyue set the soy milk down on her desk, “Why are you suddenly looking up information on survivors of monster incidents? Did our lucky survivor show any abnormal signs?”
Xie Qiaoqiao: “Not sure yet, so I’m looking for some references.”
After finishing her research, Xie Qiaoqiao shut the computer, gulped down the soy milk in one go, finished the rest of the breakfast, washed her hands, and left the office.
She followed the map navigation, making several wrong turns along the way, and finally found the Mall of Electronics after getting lost three times.
According to the information she’d looked up yesterday, she bought a suitable telescope and a pinhole camera, then took the bus home.
Because she’d wasted a lot of time getting lost, it was already past one in the afternoon when Xie Qiaoqiao got home.
She carried the laundry that had finished spinning in the washing machine out to the balcony to dry.
Standing on the balcony, she caught another whiff of delicious food.
This time, it was white radish stewed with ribs.
She took a deep breath of the mouthwatering aroma, then looked up at the freshly hung clothes, lost in thought.
When Xie Qiaoqiao killed that monster, she distinctly remembered the blood spreading across the water’s surface.
The thick mist was filled with the sweet, metallic scent of blood—human blood.
Someone must have been injured at the time, and bled a lot.
Back then, she hadn’t had much impression of Zhang Xueji.
Since there had only been one victim, she’d assumed the blood was from his injury and never thought to check his body.
He ran away.
Later, when she saw Zhang Xueji going downstairs for a morning run, Xie Qiaoqiao had even marveled at his energy—seriously injured, yet able to get up for a run as soon as he could stand.
But Zhang Xueji hadn’t been hurt, and there was no second survivor in the Waterpark.
So whose blood was it in the water?
Xie Qiaoqiao felt confused.
She turned to look at the neighbor’s balcony.
Her mind was still on the Waterpark Incident, and she sniffed hard, realizing the smell wasn’t coming from upstairs or downstairs.
It was from Zhang Xueji’s apartment next door.
Zhang Xueji finished washing the dishes, pulled out a paper towel to dry his hands, and went to check the unread messages that had been piling up.
He’d long since muted the group chat; all the unread messages were from Yuezhang Yan, asking if he was free that afternoon and if he could come act as a patient for a clinical training.
After replying to Yuezhang Yan, Zhang Xueji’s finger unconsciously scrolled down when he switched out of the chat, and finally hovered over his conversation with Xie Qiaoqiao.
Their last chat still showed the message where Zhang Xueji had sent her the neighborhood group invite.
He hadn’t messaged Xie Qiaoqiao privately since then.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, but—if you think about it, a strange male neighbor using a flimsy excuse to strike up a conversation upon first meeting, and then launching a social offensive as soon as they exchanged contact info the next day… from a girl’s perspective, that would probably be a bit creepy.
For some reason, at that moment, Zhang Xueji suddenly remembered the punch Xie Qiaoqiao had thrown at him yesterday when she lost control.
Although it hadn’t left a mark, the memory was so vivid that just thinking about it now made his chest ache faintly.
He sat down on the sofa, held his phone, and hesitated for a moment before typing.
[Sorry for the noise yesterday. Did it bother you? Was there more noise later?]
On the screen, the status next to the starry sky avatar immediately changed to ‘The other party is typing.’
Even though he was just holding a phone, and the person on the other end couldn’t see him at all, Zhang Xueji still sat up straight, feeling a little thirsty.
The ‘typing’ status disappeared.
Zhang Xueji slumped back into the sofa.
Then the status changed to ‘The other party is typing’ again.
Zhang Xueji immediately straightened up.
After a moment, a reply finally popped up in the chat window.
[Xie Qiaoqiao: It’s fine, there wasn’t any more noise afterward.]
[Zhang Xueji: I’ll be more careful in the future.]
[Zhang Xueji: As an apology, let me buy you a milk tea.]
He’d actually wanted to type [let me treat you to dinner], but after typing those four words, Zhang Xueji deleted them.
He went from sitting upright to lying on the sofa, muttering to himself in frustration, “Would inviting her to dinner be too forward? Maybe just milk tea, that’s less pressure…”
Suddenly, a new reply popped up in the chat.
[Xie Qiaoqiao: Dream-Talking is one sign of being haunted by unclean things. If you have time, you should visit a temple.]
[Xie Qiaoqiao: I have class this afternoon, done at 5:30. I want Strawberry Daifuku Milk Tea from Cha Bai Dao.]
Ding-ling-ling—
The bell signaling the end of class rang.
Xie Qiaoqiao, who had been napping, jolted awake, her messy bangs sticking up, and two red lines pressed into her otherwise blank face—marks left by sleeping with her head on her books.
Qiongsi Sang asked in confusion, “Didn’t you move out to live by yourself? Why do you look so sleep-deprived?”
While packing her bag, Xie Qiaoqiao replied without even looking up, “My neighbor’s a bit noisy.”
Qiongsi Sang wanted to say more, but Xie Qiaoqiao had already slung her bag over her shoulder and bolted out of the classroom.
Watching her disappear in a flash, Qiongsi Sang scratched her chin, puzzled. “Is she dating someone lately? Why does she run off so fast after class?”
Qinghua Lu thought about it, then shook her head. “Qiaoqiao is the least likely person in our dorm to get into a relationship. She doesn’t even have the concept in her head.”
Xie Qiaoqiao, who had no concept of romance, sprinted all the way home and managed to pick up her Strawberry Daifuku Milk Tea from the delivery counter before the ice melted.
With milk tea in hand, she relaxed, biting the straw and strolling home at a leisurely pace.
On the way, she sent a message to Zhang Xueji.
[Xie Qiaoqiao: Got the milk tea.]
[Xie Qiaoqiao: Are you home?]
[Zhang Xueji: Not home]
[Zhang Xueji: Acting as a patient for a friend.]
Several photos followed right after that reply.
Xie Qiaoqiao tapped to view the images in full and saw they were of medical students practicing emergency care.
She didn’t know why Zhang Xueji sent her these pictures, but since he was willing to report his whereabouts on his own, Xie Qiaoqiao was quite satisfied.
This would save her a lot of trouble monitoring him.
After gulping down the milk tea in a few sips, Xie Qiaoqiao did some warm-ups, then tucked the pinhole camera she’d bought into her pants pocket.
From the 27th floor balcony, people on the ground looked no different from ants.
The neighbor’s balcony was about two meters away from hers, not enclosed, with a half-open design.
Xie Qiaoqiao jumped over easily, landing without stepping on any of the plants growing on the neighbor’s balcony.
Since she wasn’t in a hurry, she took a closer look at the plants: they didn’t look like decorative greenery, but rather—
Was that a patch of scallions or garlic sprouts?
They both looked similar.
Xie Qiaoqiao put on disposable plastic shoe covers and gloves before sliding open the balcony door.
She hadn’t received any formal training in this, but she’d watched plenty of movies, so her theoretical knowledge was solid.
Zhang Xueji’s apartment layout was similar to hers—two bedrooms, two living rooms, and two balconies—but the decor was quite different.
Her place was basic template decor, while Zhang Xueji’s side clearly showed the owner had put in some effort.
The hard-to-maintain wooden floors, the walls covered with all sorts of fancy wooden crafts and hanging paintings—amid all the dazzling clutter, there was a strange sense of harmony.
That made things easier for Xie Qiaoqiao; more decorations meant more convenient places to hide pinhole cameras.
She’d already read the instructions, so after picking the right angles, she installed them in several rooms.
This was to prevent Zhang Xueji from mysteriously dropping dead at home.
If he got dragged into a hallucination, Xie Qiaoqiao would see it on the monitor and could go save him.
If he was extremely unlucky and got haunted outside, the ghost’s aura would affect the cameras—if all the pinhole cameras went out at once, she’d know immediately.
Xie Qiaoqiao was amazed at her own cleverness—what a brilliant two-birds-with-one-stone idea!
Clearly, there was nothing wrong with her brain; her struggles with math must be math’s fault, not hers.
After installing the pinhole cameras, Xie Qiaoqiao returned to her own apartment the way she came, shut the windows, then turned on her computer to connect to the feed from next door.
Soon, the monitor displayed split screens of the surveillance footage.
Since the owner wasn’t home, everything was still, but the signal was excellent.
It seemed that yesterday, Zhang Xueji had just been dragged into a Nightmare, and for now, he hadn’t been haunted by any wandering ghosts outside.
Xie Qiaoqiao felt relieved.
She sat down at her desk and continued reading the foreign language book she hadn’t finished last time.
The sun gradually slanted westward, its rays growing weaker as the sunset dyed the clouds a deep red.
The flaming clouds swept across the sky, shining with all their might before fading into darkness.
When the last bit of color sank behind the western mountains, the rising moon gradually took over the night.
Feeling hungry, Xie Qiaoqiao opened the fridge, tore open a pack of toast, and slapped in two slices coated with jam and lettuce.
By the time she finished this hastily made dinner, it was almost nine o’clock.
But she still hadn’t seen Zhang Xueji on the surveillance feed—did it really take this long to act as a patient for medical students?
Xie Qiaoqiao took out her phone and messaged Zhang Xueji.
[What are you doing?]
After sending it, Zhang Xueji didn’t reply.
Xie Qiaoqiao wasn’t discouraged and sent over a dozen more messages in a row—but after ten minutes, there was still no response.
Xie Qiaoqiao fished her empty milk tea cup out of the trash, pressed her index finger to the rim, and whispered, “Seeking Spell, Seeking Spell, lead me to your owner.”
After finishing the incantation, she tossed the cup onto the floor.
The cup began spinning rapidly, then suddenly stopped, its mouth pointing in a certain direction.